You are currently browsing the monthly archive for January, 2007.
Tell about handed-down talents, foods, clothespin dolls, willow whistles, pottery, quilting, whittling, meat drying, etc.
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
From my mom I learned to sew, knit, crochet, embroider.
By age eight I was knitting Barbie clothes. At age 10 I was sewing on the sewing machine (the unforgetable finger-sewing event), in high school I made my own clothes, it was the late 60s so it didn’t take much fabric for the mini skirts!
Over the years, I have made bridesmade dresses, baby clothes, afghans, Christmas stockings, quilts.
I have always loved quilts. My father’s mother made quilts, I inherited one of her quilt tops that I have been working on for years to finish. Folks back then made quilts out of necessity to keep warm rather than for the art. My mom did not quilt, but she did teach me to sew, the foundation of making a quilt.
I believe these handed-down talents are a big part of who I am, I appreciate hand-made and handed-down items, and I think it is important to continue the tradition, to keep on handing it down.
My youngest daughter Carrie picked up knitting, and by now has probably knitted a scarf for everyone she knows. She is also working on a crocheted afghan. She is very talented and a quick learner, she is doing her part to carry on the handed-down talents.
I have been very fortunate to live close to the grandkids, last year they all learned the basics of crochet, and this year the girls are tackling the sewing machine. They are all quick to learn and love the attention, admittedly we all have a great time at it.
But most importantly, some day they will be talking about their handed-down talents, and hopefully will pass them on and on…
Describe a favorite childhood friend and something you did with her or him.
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
It has to be Wilma, we practically lived at each other’s houses in high school…
I wonder if these things really happened, the memories are kinda faded and rose-colored…
Hey, Wilma – do you remember …
baking cupcakes to sell
double dating to the prom
riding the school bus together
sock hops in the gym after the football games
when you moved in with us and I had a real sister
hanging out at the Canteen and dancing to the live band
cruising from the Fountain to the Tastee Freeze in Blue Ridge
picking up those cute boys from Atlanta and taking them home with us
learning to drive my mom’s big green Chevy on that narrow gravel road
walking to town – down Harpertown hill on Saturdays with curlers in our hair
the time in the 8th grade when Vanessa was going to beat me up because her boyfriend talked to me at the canteen
staying over at your house with your little sister sharing the bed, it was so little that if one person turned over, we all had to
the time we sang the school alma mater to the tune of Three Dog Night’s Joy to the World (Jeremiah was a bullfrog…)
that time I was staying at your house when your mom was in the hospital and you decided to make fried chicken – we called my mom and she walked us through step-by-step on how to cut up a chicken
We had a lot of great times together, and have kept in touch over the years, we have seen our children grow up and grandchildren arrive. Great memories, great friend!
What was your worst, really embarrassing moment?
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
When trying to remember a really embarrassing moment, though I couldn’t pinpoint one in particular, this episode certainly came to mind.
I was probably 12 or 13. There was a party at our new house-site, the house was shelled in, you could still walk through the stud walls. My mom was the youth director at church and she was hosting a party for all the youth, my age and older, teenagers. There was a cookout and a bonfire, it was dark. Everyone brought 45 records to play. Music was in the background. My mom started entertaining the kids. She picked up a stack of 45s and began to read the song titles. Sounds harmless, right? Except she added ‘between the sheets’ after every title.
You get the picture -
You’ve lost that lovin feeling between the sheets.
Please please me between the sheets.
Come a little bit closer between the sheets.
All the kids loved it, she was a big hit, a real cool mom, huh? Oh well, looking back, if that is all I had to worry about, I was doing okay.
describe your last home as a young couple
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
I guess the last home we had as a young couple is the same one we are living in now. We built this house in 1976 when we were PK (pre-kids), just the two of us still. But the first addition within a year of finishing it was for the nursery, so we weren’t alone for long.
The plans for this house were in the making long before my time, and were shown to me while dating (how to impress a date…). After we were married, we lived at Tumblin Waters for 6 months, then moved to an apartment south of Atlanta and lived there for over two years while saving and collecting supplies to start the house.
It took almost a year to build it, and it seems like we have been working on it ever since. It is a lot of work to own a home, but we wouldn’t trade our A-frame in the woods for anything else.
This house holds all our memories, along with a few scars, like the scuff marks on the baseboards from baby walkers, and the scorch marks from the lightning strike…
The mantle holds memories of stockings being hung – first 2, then 3, then 4…
The stone chimney was the backdrop for many posed pictures – baby’s first Christmas, Halloween costumes, prom dates.
The kid’s rooms have evolved into guest room, craft room, storage, again to kids rooms when they moved back…
Like they say, if these walls could talk…
what is your greatest joy and your greatest sorrow?
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
![]()
My greatest joy is being with the grandkids, whether it is playing Scrabble or teaching them to sew, hiking in the woods, or making s’mores around the campfire, they are truly a joy to be around.
My greatest sorrow is not getting to know my parents and grandparents better, not recording their stories for future generations to learn from and enjoy.
tell something about each of your children, their personalities, their talents, traits, that make them different and special
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
Melissa is our first born beautiful brown-eyed brunette, a hard working entrepreneur who is organized and punctual, along with being a loving caring mother who is creative, fun-loving, and spontaneous.
Carrie is the baby of the family, beautiful blue-eyed blonde, a romantic dreamer who has a lot of friends and family that she cares about, in addition to being very organized, goal-oriented, and talented.
tell about your civic or political activities
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
Well, this question certainly is revealing! What civic activities? What political activities?
There was that one time when I was asked to be the secretary for a group of ‘concerned citizens for better government’ – sure why not, just type up some stuff for the newspaper. Little did I know that the paper would not accept anonymous ads and my name was put at the bottom. I was promptly dissed on the local radio station by the illustrious county commissioner (for trying to get him out of office). That was the last of my political activities.
As far as civic activities, I was once a Girl Scout leader, does that count? It was great fun!
As this question has revealed, I tend not to get involved in anything much outside of family, am an admitted hermit, and apathetic to anything political.
Why the turkey picture? Something about the timeliness of the president speaking on television last night about sending more troops to Iraq and the 15 wild turkeys that showed up in the yard…
what are your memories – draw a diagram if you can
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
Just this past Sunday, the CBS Sunday Morning show had a report on memory:
As we embark on a new year, we almost can’t help reflecting on the one we’ve left behind. But why do some moments stand out and others fade away? And even if your memory is good, is it ever accurate?
Experts say, like fingerprints, no two memories are identical.
It is very unlikely that two people will remember the same event exactly the same way because each person comes to a situation with a different set of expectations and biases.
When we have a memory it is a combination of what’s actually out there in the world and what’s going on inside of us – the stronger the emotion, the more lasting the memory will be.
So what are my memories? That is a very broad question. Memories of this past year? This decade? My adult life? My childhood?
I remember the day Kennedy was shot and the day the shuttle exploded
I remember waiting rooms, delivery rooms, school rooms
I remember wedding days and moving days
I remember pitter patter of little feet, training wheels, clogging shoes, high heels
I remember first loves, first cars, first houses
I remember walking on beaches and climbing mountains
I remember riding bikes, summer camp, cheerleading
I remember pesky older brothers and boring family reunions
I remember christenings, recitals, proms, graduations
This list is obviously just a snapshot of what I can glean from my mind at this moment, but I believe it is a good representation. A new year awaits – full of potential memory-making events!
Where did your grandparents live? What was their home like? Did it have a certain smell or look?
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
My father’s parents lived south of Atlanta in Henry County, Georgia. The story goes that they lived on a farm, but my grandmother wanted to live in town, so she saved her ‘butter and egg money’ and bought that house in town. That is the house I remember, a wide front porch all the way across, screened-in, with wicker chairs and rockers. There were homemade quilts on the beds, and a pecan tree in the yard where we would pick up pecans to shell.
My mother’s parents also lived south of Atlanta, in Ellenwood. Their house was big and airy, with tall ceilings and 3 porches. The front porch faced the road, had rockers and plants, and was seldom used. The side porch was just off the kitchen, and was used all the time, for sitting and visiting, it had a glider. The rooms in the front of the house were not used very often, and smelled musty (the ones we would stay in when visiting).
There was a garage out back for my grandfather the mechanic. The garage was dark with bright lights only at the work areas, the floor was dirt mixed with motor oil, a dense dark hard surface. There was a pit where my grandfather would work on the underside of a car. There were silver curlicues under the workbench from the metal lathe.
We didn’t visit very often to either grandparents, as we always lived far away, and I don’t remember but just a few trips. But what I do remember is I enjoyed the visits, and looking back, I am glad I got to know them, to make that connection with family, and to recognize where some of my traits came from.
where did you live as a child – town, country, suburb, etc.?
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
Before the age of 10, I was an Army brat. Other than a couple of Army bases (which were like suburbs with rows of houses and sidewalks), most of my childhood was spent in the country. Three years in North Carolina outside of Fort Bragg – 1st through 3rd grade – our own house with a garden, and woods with trees to climb, great fun!
Then in 5th grade (at age 10) my dad retired from the Army and we moved to the North Georgia mountains, 50 acres with no houses in sight. We lived on a dirt road that was rough and nearly impassable at times. We had a garden and pasture with cows, chickens, dogs and cats. We would get out on Sunday afternoon and ‘walk the property’, my parents obviously glad to have gotten out of the ratrace of Army life and moving around, glad to have some land to call their own.
I don’t guess I have ever lived in town, even as an adult. Living on the Army base was fun, with lots of kids to play with and paved roads and sidewalks to ride bikes, but my favorite place to live is in the country, especially now, with its slow pace, friendly people, wide open spaces.
